


Catharsis

by JRC



Series: ABO DoomCioTiste [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha Akande, Alpha Baptiste, Alpha Doomfist, Alpha Jean-Baptiste Augustin, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Assault, Blood and Gore, Courtroom Drama, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Omega Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 22:22:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20824763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRC/pseuds/JRC
Summary: Akande cannot see straight. He’s looking right at the man, right at him, but he cannot see through the scarlet film that has draped over his eyes since the man was walked into the room.Every time Akande looks at the man, all he can think about is Lúcio.Every time he blinks, he sees it again. Sees Lúcio again. Sees the blood dripping freely down his omega’s chest.





	Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings:  
Graphic depictions of violence  
description of a physical assault  
elements of non-con  
description of an assault reminiscent of sexual assault

Akande cannot see straight. He’s looking right at the man, _right at him_, but he cannot see through the scarlet film that has draped over his eyes since the man was walked into the room. 

Every time Akande looks at the man, all he can think about is Lúcio.

The other Alpha is in chains, his scent sour, like rotting lemons. It is a mere hint in the air of the courtroom compared to Akande’s unbridled rage. Vinegar-scented pheromones cloaked the entire courtroom, had done so as soon as the towering Alpha had stalked into the room. Jean-Baptiste is absent, which is probably for the best. He would try to stop Akande from what he intends to do.

Every time he blinks, he sees it again. Sees Lúcio again. Sees the blood dripping freely down his omega’s chest.

The judge is speaking. Akande doesn’t care. He is only here to testify to what he saw when he found Lúcio. Jean-Baptiste should be here instead, but Akande fought for the chance to be here. For the chance to see this despicable Alpha again.

Lúcio’s whimpers echo in Akande’s mind again and again, some sort of sick looped track he is unable to shut off. 

For the chance to correct his mistake in holding back the first time.

Akande leans back in his seat, feigning exhaustion, discomfort, anything to put the courtroom at ease. He is not blind. He sees how everyone leans away from him, how even the judge neglects to meet his intense gaze. He will wait until it is his turn to speak. Will wait until he has said what he needs to say.

Lúcio’s clothes had been torn in no less than a dozen places. One of his dreads had been cut off at the end. Dried blood glued the remnants of his tour tank top to his chest. Akande and Jean-Baptiste had only been able to learn even this much once they had managed to coax Lúcio out of the trembling, whimpering ball he had shrunken into.

Will wait until it is time to exact his revenge. 

“Mr. Ogundimu?” The judge asks, drawing Akande from his stormy thoughts.

He rises from his chair, straightening out his suit as he makes his way to the witness bench. He is here on dozens of favors called in to ensure that he is not arrested. This supersedes his concern for his own wellbeing. This is his omega’s safety. This is his job as an Alpha.

When he finally seats himself, Akande waits patiently for the examiner to ask him to describe the previous night’s events. When the woman does so, Akande closes his eyes, flashing briefly back to that horrible moment of discovery, drawing his considerable willpower to bear as he locks his heart away, to deal with the pain when he is alone.

“Jean-Baptiste and I, Lúcio’s other Alpha, went looking for him after his concert last night, for he did not meet us outside at our car, as he always does. We waited for half an hour before determining that something might be wrong, and entering the concert arena through the back entrance. I told Jean-Baptiste to look for Lúcio near the stage, because sometimes he gets caught up in conversations with fans or crew members. I went to look for Lúcio in his dressing room.”

Akande forces himself to pause and take a deep breath, noticing how he had sped up, until his words were almost unintelligible. These people deserved to know why Akande was going to do what he was planning to.

“My first clue that something was terribly wrong was Lúcio’s dressing room door. It was closed. Lúcio never closes any doors behind him, especially not during his concerts. He loves waving to any fans on VIP tours, or curious crewmembers. But last night, his door was closed. When I tried the handle, I found that it was also locked. I kicked in the door, and found this man,” He pauses, pointing to the Alpha in chains, refusing to acknowledge the amount of effort it takes to keep his hand from shaking. “Straddling Lúcio, who was attempting to fight him off. I seized the man by the neck and threw him against the opposite wall, shouting for Jean-Baptiste. Jean-Baptiste is a talented medic in his own right, and I could see droplets of blood on the carpet all around Lúcio already.”

Akande hears the shutters of several cameras go off. The courtroom is holding its breath, and he closes his eyes, digging deep to find the strength to continue his account. _This isn’t right_, his mind protests, railing against the idea of discussing such a personal matter with so many strangers. _You can’t tell them these things about yourself. About Jean-Baptiste. About Lúcio_.

But he _needs _them to understand.

“I got down onto the floor beside Lúcio,” He finally begins, his voice much quieter this time when he speaks. “One hand was clamped over the side of his neck. The other was over his mouth. His scent…” Akande’s voice cracks.

“You don’t have to describe his scent to us, Mr. Ogundimu,” the examiner prompts gently.

Akande nods, swallowing thickly. “He was sobbing. Curled up into a ball on the carpet, and sobbing so hard, I could hear how hoarse his voice was even through his hand. Lúcio’s clothes were torn in several places. Small gashes were present on his legs and arms, which I could see right away. He sounded like a dying animal. Every time he rocked back and forth, he made these… these broken little sounds. They sounded like pleas. He was begging the Alpha to stop. I lifted him into my arms and carried him from the room, where it would not smell like this animal,” he growled, glaring at the Alpha in chains before he could stop himself.

“Jean-Baptiste met me in the hallway,” he continued, ignoring the examiner’s remark about keeping his recollection of the events unbiased. “We brought Lúcio to a cast breakroom, and set him down on a sofa, doing what we could to calm him down and assess his injuries. Jean-Baptiste was sitting on Lúcio’s left side. He saw the damage to Lúcio’s neck first.”

Several gasps broke the silence of the courtroom, and Akande looked around at those seated before him, daring them to challenge his statement for being unbiased now. 

“His scent gland had been torn open. He was bleeding freely from the wound, and secreting his pheromones, which were mixing with his blood as it ran down his shirt, both in front and in back. We had to cut his shirt off of him.” Akande actually had to raise his voice as shouts rang through the courtroom, many of those in the audience on their feet and hurling obscenities at the Alpha in chains. “Jean-Baptiste informed me that Lúcio was in shock, which I did not find surprising given the amount of blood he had lost already. I summoned the authorities and left Lúcio in Jean-Baptiste’s capable hands, while I set out to find Lúcio’s attacker.”

“The man had run, but I was faster, and his scent was a disgusting trail that led me straight to him,” Akande sneered, glaring at the Alpha now with unconcealed hatred, his lip curled in disgust. “I incapacitated him,” he said, noting with satisfaction the bruises that littered the man’s exposed skin. “And brought him back to the authorities. I did not wish to kill him. I needed him to suffer for what he did.”

The examiner cleared her throat anxiously, a Beta who would be unable to smell Akande’s pheromones, but could read the tension in the courtroom just as well. “And Mr. Correia? What medical care did he require last night, to say nothing of the future care he will certainly need to move past last night’s attack?”

Akande took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he let his eyes pass over the agitated crowd. “Lúcio needed invasive, emergency scent-gland reconstruction surgery as soon as we reached the hospital. I was told that there was only a thirty percent chance that his scent gland would be able to be saved at all. That they might have to remove it, if they were unable to stop the blood flow.”

The courtroom exploded, an uproar of anger and repulsion sweeping through the onlookers until the security guards who had escorted in the monster of an Alpha were forced to leave his side. Everything was going according to plan. Akande, unnoticed in the commotion, vaulted over the witness table using one hand, and stormed across the courtroom. He did not stop at the half-wall that blocked the man into the corner of the courtroom, easily stepping over the wall until he towered over the other Alpha, whose scent curdled unpleasantly with fear.

“You _should _be scared,” Akande growled, leaning in and seizing the Alpha by his orange shirt, then slamming him against the courtroom wall. He had been noticed by this point, if the frantic flashing of cameras pointed in his direction was any indication. Akande, easily both bigger and stronger than the other Alpha, pressed the man’s head into the wall with one hand, and steadied his left shoulder with the other, before leaning in and sinking his bare teeth into the Alpha’s neck. He pulled back as the man screamed in agony, tearing the other Alpha’s scent gland from his neck, and the man’s blood dripped liberally from his mouth onto the lapels of his suit.

He spit the gland onto the courtroom floor, crushing it beneath his heel for good measure, and released Lúcio’s attacker, leaving the man a sobbing, bloodied mess on the floor beside the remains of his scent gland. Akande turned, umber eyes burning with bloodlust as he _dared _anyone to challenge him. This would make a fine cover photo for tomorrow’s papers, he knew. Doomfist, his mouth covered in another Alpha’s blood, staring down the courtroom after avenging his omega. Akande reached up and wiped his mouth clean using his suit sleeve. The garment was already ruined anyway. He fully intended to brush his teeth hourly for the next week, if not longer. But he had needed to do this. Had needed to know that this Alpha would never so much as _think _about Lúcio ever again.

And on the off chance that this monster had managed to mark Lúcio’s scent gland before all but ripping it from the omega’s throat… Lúcio would never have to smell this monster’s scent ever again.

The urge to flee had grown past the point that Akande could suppress it any longer, and he adjusted his suit, merely nodding to the shocked judge as he made his way towards the courtroom exit. He felt as though he had not stopped shaking since he had walked in on that Alpha crouched over Lúcio. Finally, he could breathe.

Unsurprisingly, no one challenged Akande as he shoved his way through the crowded courtroom, still in uproar. He was sliding into his sleek black hover car before the police, Overwatch, or any other law enforcement had managed to arrive onto the scene, and driving off into the dark of the night. 

Now, finally, he could return home and wrap his arms about Lúcio, if the omega would let him, to selfishly reassure himself that Lúcio was alright.

**Author's Note:**

> I found the title quite fitting, all things considered.
> 
> I don't actually remember what started this scene. Maybe if it has a precursor scene I'll stick that up in here as an additional chapter at some point. As it is, enjoy this highly justified rage and violence by one Akande Ogundimu against some Alpha scum.


End file.
